Me. Now.

I feel a little strange.

As if I were thawing out. 

I don’t know who I am when I meet another. 

I can’t fit into my past life, as if my clothes don’t work for me anymore. 

I thought I was fine, until I open my eyes and see what they see. 

Am I crazy?

I can’t relate…to anyone. 

Nothing little exists. It’s all ‘biggies’ it feels, nowadays.

Where am I in this space? 

I just want to move – inside of it. 

All warm and comfy, my sacred union with myself letting down the curtains of my mind. Desiring a long intermission. I want snacks but with no company. I want to lick the salt off my fingers no matter if it’s from the food or my tears. 

I want to exist in space. And the only way I know how, is to be in my own space. Yet, I have nothing that I own. Even my space. 

I want a balcony. 

I want grass, snow, yard space.

I want my feet to be bare and choose their own choices instead of ruled by concrete and rubber. 

And someday, I will have this. 

And will I then want what I had? 

Will I miss the space in which I could touch everything at once?

Will I miss the proximity to convenience?  

Will I miss the faces and daily conversations regardless of if we wanted it?

Will I miss, saying, “I’ll be there in 30 seconds” and it’s true?


My highest good and suffering play their parts. I play an emerging participant being led by the great divine, while silently screaming. 

And then I accept, “I need to be and have my own space”. 

I’m eager for my own reunion of one.

Vanessa Wishstar